Fell Deeds
by Oldwickedsongs
Summary: In the aftermath of his most spectacular crime, the HalfBlood Prince finds himself pitted against the consequences of his actions, and the Ministry's specially appointed avenging angel whose sole purpose in life is to receive blood for blood.
1. The Dog of War

Author's Note: I am tempted to say this my re-entry into HP fanfiction but we shall see. I am rather curious to see if I still have the touch to write Severus Snape as a prince. This is an attempt at canon-friendly fandom. Hope you enjoy and please read and review.

Disclaimer: "If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended

That you did but slumber'd here while these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme is no more yielding then a dream."

-Midsummer's Night Dream

_O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth  
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!  
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man  
That ever lived in the tide of times.  
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!  
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,-- _

_  
Blood and destruction shall be so in use  
And dreadful objects so familiar  
That mothers shall but smile when they behold  
Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;  
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds…_

-Julius Caesar

**Fell Deeds**

**By: Lady Erised**

**Chapter One: The Dog of War**

The first true heat wave of summer break found Minerva McGonagall in her office at Hogwarts under a pile of folders and files. There were letters and piles of notes written in Albus Dumbledore's hand concerning changes he had meant to implement for the school, and topics he wished to address with members of his staff. There were letters of commendation and condemnation, and applications and more then one letter of resignation. There were requests for interviews from reporters, and Headmasters from other magical schools who wrote in support. Minerva knew acutely the meaning behind each inked word as she read over them. It was the same question that had been burned into the eyes of everyone at the funeral when they watched her. Everyone wanted to know if Minerva McGonagall could be possibly replace Albus Dumbledore. And Minerva would have gladly answered them had they but the courage to ask her personally.

There was no way she could replace him. She knew that, as well as if not more so, then anyone who dared glance at her with their accusing eyes.

It was all so surreal, Minerva thought as she stared into the mass of chaos on her desk, how the two worlds were merging to become one reality. She had found herself somewhere between Albus life and her own, between his life, his death and the world without him.

And she hated herself because it was becoming easier. Sometimes at least.

Sometimes, McGonagall could go hours without crumbling under the pain of Dumbledore's death and collapsing into despair. There were times when she did not live with the pain of betrayal and hatred, for both Dumbledore and Snape.

Snape. Even the very mention of his name could make Minerva buckle under emotion she didn't think herself capable of. Half of her wished she could hate him, could hurt him as wholly as he hurt her and the world, while the other half- the same side of her that desperately wished this was all some elaborate scheme of Dumbledore and Severus' (because after all, who loved Albus more then his Severus?) to change the tide of war.

There were times that side overtook her, claimed her senses and her beliefs so much that McGonagall rose and wanted to seek them out, wanted to go to Spinner's End and find Dumbledore and Snape laughing and sparing. It made her want to believe that everything would be okay. She wanted to know that it was all some bad dream, and this burden that how not passed unto her shoulders would pass into nightmare.

And sometimes, even though she would never tell anyone, Minerva wished Severus was still by her side. Somehow, she felt that Dumbledore's absence would be somehow weakened if only Snape was by her, if only his coolness of temper and coldness in calculation was there to counter balance her own emotion.

And then, Minerva remembered and the pain blinded her. She remembered and all else blacked out and she fell.

This is where Minerva was there was a knock on the door and the sounds of it opening to admit a visitor.

The woman in the door was a small mouse like creature. She had a small face, heart shaped and pink from the warmth outside. Her almond eyes were clear and descriptive, holding Minerva in a gaze of comfortable scrutiny. She had a pencil lip mouth, pinked lip and pursed together into something was should have been a smile. A thin snake of blond hair clustered on top of her head held in place with a wooden comb. All the mass her body held was in the plush cloaks she wore that peeled off of her body that revealed a lithe, feather of a figure that looked unsuited to the dark navy suit she wore.

When McGonagall's eyes finally met the woman's, the girl tilted her head to one side and smiled- a prompt toothy grin with dimples that Minerva felt would go better behind a hand and with a well-placed giggle.

"Forgive me for barging in unannounced." The woman said as she strolled into the office, folding the layers of cloaks over her arm and stumbling from the weight. "I am sent my Minister Scrimgeour to help with the dilemma you are facing. I assume I'm speaking to the Headmaster."

McGonagall rose from her seat with every intention of fetching Albus Dumbledore. She paused just before realizing the folly of her thought process and feeling the familiar stab of pain that had been her constant companion since Dumbledore's death.

"I am Professor Minerva McGonagall." McGonagall began, pushing her robes aside to extend her hand. "And as I told the Minister of Magic Hogwarts will continue to be…"

"Again, pardon." The girl said holding one had up, and then bringing it quickly down again to gather up her robes again. "But I am not here to discuss the school's continue performance. Those are lofty matters not befitting a servant as humble as I."

"Then why are you here?"

"The death" The girl began delicately, hesitating over that word death as if it displeased her, before continuing in the same light serious tone. "has caused great concern among the international community. Headmaster Dumbledore assured the Minister of Magic that he and his school would be protected, tended to, cared for and he is repaid with this."

Minerva felt her spine go rigid as she stared down this feather girl and all but hissed her reply. "How cruel of Albus, to get himself killed."

The girl blinked and looked down, she moved the cloaks from one side to another in her arms. "Understand, Madam Headmaster, I realize this is a difficult time for you and your school. And in truth, I am loath to perform my fell duties in such a sensitive time but the people demand justice. Retribution. Absolution. Minister Scrimgeour has promised this, and it is my duty to execute this promise. To do that, I need your cooperation."

Minerva frowned, and slinked back slightly. She retook her seat, but did not offer the girl a chair. "I don't understand."

"To speak plainly, Madam Headmaster, the people are afraid. The death of Albus Dumbledore has cast serious doubts on effectiveness of the Ministry to protect them. If so costly a sacrifice can be laid on the altar of freedom, if so godly a man can be brought down, what hope does the populace have against the Dark Lord?"

The girl looked down again, on cue, and licked her lips. Minerva thought she saw the girl shiver.

"I am an Auror. And as such, it is my duty to amend this mistake." The girl's voice was soft and sad. She looked pale and sick. She sounded almost afraid.

Minerva felt her stomach sink, and she wanted to laugh. "How on earth could you make this better?"

The girl continued to stare into the floor, and she fidgeted with the robes she held. She was very small. "My sole function is to deal with matters as delicate and brutal as the one which England now finds itself. You need only know I am Auror, and I was sent by the Minister of Magic. As to how I shall redeem this crime, I shall perform my duties as Anthony avenged Caesar." She intoned quietly, and then raised her head, settling on McGonagall. "I do not claim to be so poetic, or as romantic as Anthony when performing his duties. My orders are clear, simple, and final. I shall execute them without passion or prejudice."

The laughter of scorn had begun to form into disquiet. "And what are your orders?"

"My orders are to find Severus Snape," the girl answered. "and service justice."

It was McGonagall's turn to shiver. She found the girl's eyes and took a long time to search them. The girl's eyes were distinct but dumb, like the eyes of a cow but not ignorant. She had the narrowest of minds, the clearest of path that Minerva had only ever seen in Severus own eyes. Minerva could see the girl now, could see the perfection of pose, the dignity in her cruelty.

And this creature was cruel. Minerva found herself staring at her hands. The girl's hands were small, pink and perfectly manicured. She was the paragon of straight lines and extreme angles.

She all but smiled when she spoke of homicide.

"And how do you mean to serve justice?" Minerva whispered coolly.

The girl smiled, dimples shining as she turned smartly. "Such details are not befitting such a pure soul as yours, Madam Headmaster." She chirped as she passed through the door and down the hall. "I shall be here conducting interviews of you and your staff to best understand my adversary." Then as a kind of cool, quiet afterthought. "And you will help me."

"I'm sorry," McGonagall mumbled, as she stood to follow the girl but stopped at the door rather then follow the specter down the hall. "I did not catch your name."

The Auror paused. She did not turn around. "Refer to me as Du Lac."


	2. The Man Imprisoned

Author's Note: Inspiration from Firefly, Jarhead, and Neil Gaiman. There are several allusions and jabs to my Dark Prince series that some of my readers will hopefully giggle at. Read and review. I'll post an edited version sometime later.

**Chapter Two: The Man Imprisoned**

Lucius Malfoy wondered how long he could stare into the corner of his jail cell without losing his mind. Not that he was in any danger of losing his mind, (though if he continued to read G. K Chesterton, that may become a possibility) but Lucius was bored and if there was anything to be feared; it is a bored aristocrat. The place Lucius found himself in was not the best place for listlessness either.

His cell in Azkaban was common but not unkempt. In fact, it was the best money could buy. He had a small bed with downy sheets and plush pillows adorned around the crown. He had a small writing desk with a lamp, and a small growing collection of books to occupy his mind. He received several guests, from business contacts brave enough to weather his new surroundings, to old friends in the Ministry or in the Aurors who would come to help him plan his eventual release. He received the newspaper every morning with tea and brandy, and had a female prison guard deliver his letters every night.

Yes, Lucius Malfoy it seemed, had found a wonderful way to spend the rest of the war.

One would have thought he planned it that way.

"Malfoy!" Called one his Auror guards (Silas or Gideon, Lucius could never recall their names) from the end of the hall. "Have a guest. Your brother's here."

Lucius arched a brow. "Brother?" He drawled. "I don't have a brother." He rose to greet his guest because it's always polite to rise and greet a family member even if they are imaginary and smiled as he saw the man push several coins into the Auror's palm.

The brother wore his hair in greasy locks about his face. He wore mostly black, but had taken great precautions to lope without appearing menacing. He was failing. The figure stalked the narrow hallway as if it was a dungeon, and swooped into view like an overgrown bat. Lucius smirked for a second.

"Your majesty…" He said, affecting a bow.

"Stop that." Hissed the voice.

"What?" Lucius returned. "You are a Prince are you not? That's what they're calling you in the papers. The Half-Blood Prince. It's all very dramatic. What next? Are you going to start wearing scars across your face and pretending to be a demon?" Lucius continued, a smile creeping unto the corners of his face. "He who made the nations tremble and such."

"Like anyone would believe that rubbish. Now sit down."

Lucius was still smiling when he sat. "You can't blame me for teasing you."

"I can and will." The visitor snorted. "Dark Prince indeed."

"Half-Blood Prince."  
"Whatever."

Lucius slid into his chair easily, and continued to smile. "I didn't think you'd come."

"I almost didn't." The guest said, as he took to a seat. He looked back at the Aurors with a kind of familiar paranoia that Lucius could not place on the person. It was strange; true, to know that this pale-featured man before him was widely accepted in England as the most dangerous and treacherous man in the Kingdom. Somehow, it was no less disturbing to stare into his guise and know it is a mask.

Then again, Lucius thought idly, even without the Polyjuice Potion to guise his face; he had only ever seen Severus Snape in character. And without feigning or disguising anything, Lucius Malfoy found he could not sit in the Prince's presence without feeling the slightest nuance of fear.

This man had killed the untouchable. He had fell a god. Something had changed, he had changed, and in short, Lucius was afraid.

Severus seemed to realize this because he leaned back in his own chair and stared at Lucius through eyes that were not his own. "Should I leave?" He asked.

"Of course not." Lucius muttered, and chewed on the inside of his lip. "I'm glad you came. Especially now."

"Now?"

"You must be hurting." The figure shifted and looked behind him again. Lucius pressed. "I know you cared about him. Regardless of your loyalties to us, I know it must have hurt you to follow your heart. I'm glad you made the choice to come back to us, brother." He put his hand up, and withdrew it just before he touched him. "Thank you for coming back to me."

The guest looked down at his hands. "Who said I was back, Lucius? I've been playing a part for Albus so long, that sometimes I think I believed it myself. I wanted that life. Now, I don't know." He inhaled, "There's so much I wish I could tell you, Lucius. So much I wish to share with you…"

"It doesn't matter anymore, brother. You made your choice. You made the right choice." Lucius felt himself sit up, and leaned forward. "You protected your family. Your blood and I above all others profited from it. Thank you."

"Enough." Snape hissed in return. "I can take the Order's hate, contempt from Bella and the others…but not your gratitude. I did nothing noble. I kept my word, to Cissy…to Draco."

"Have you seen them? Heard from them at all? I would have thought they would come…but…" Lucius stopped himself and looked away. "Not now."

"McNair saw them day after yesterday. The Old Man has them safe, out of England. The Auror can't touch them."

"Why didn't you go with them? You could have."

"No, I couldn't. Appearances must be maintained. I am as much the old man's trophy as Dumbledore's gravestone." Severus sat up, looking behind again at the Aurors. Lucius looked pass him to the guards as well. They were perched by the doorframe, reading about the Qudditch match last night and discussing the featly of one of their girlfriends.

Lucius and Severus could have been discussing battle plans and they wouldn't have noticed. Still, he understood. Severus felt no safety and probably would never again.

"Albus trusted me." His voice was barely above a whisper. "He loved me, and trusted me with his life. His last words were my name. Do you know what's that like, Lucius? Can you possibly understand what that is like?"

Lucius reclined, and feigned frivolity. "They've begged me for mercy before."

"He was asking me…" Severus shook his head. "Enough. It doesn't matter. It never did."

They talked for a time. Lucius kept the conversation light and unimportant, and Severus sipped from a small flask he kept in his coat pocket. He was grateful for the stupidity, for the conservations of cabbages and kings and Qudditch and the new red-hair Auror guard who Lucius, "if he were unwed would take in a manly fashion." She liked Lucius apparently because she blushed when she passed his rooms, and sometimes offered him blown kisses from behind his superiors' backs. Lucius talked of Narcissa in dark, wet detail that made Severus squirm and laugh.

Severus talked of court gossip. He used no names, so Lucius could pretend to be free. Perhaps it was the other way around. Lucius asked questions and Severus answered sometimes with a grin, sometimes with a groan. He laughed, and smiled and Lucius pretended not to remember that he had killed Dumbledore.

When it was time to go, he rose and embraced Lucius. He stepped back, and smiled at the jail cell idly. "You know, for some reason, I thought these places would be…darker. Smaller. You know the kind of place, you can pace eight or so steps."

"Nonsense. This place can fit a pool.." Lucius smirked, hugging him once more. He stopped shy of release. Then, softly, almost to himself. "I know this doesn't mean much coming from me, Severus. But…you did the right thing."

Severus paused, and rose. He straightened up, and stared at Lucius with a kind of composed darkness. A stately manner, one befitting of a prince. "You're right, Luci." He said softly. "Coming from you, that means nothing at all."

Remus Lupin walked down the dungeons hallways to the Severus Snape's office as if he were walking on death row. He had his shag of hair pulled behind his ears, and his hands planted firmly in his pockets. Every so often, he would grunt or sigh and then cast a hopeful glance towards to his escort for guidance or assurance. Kingsley Shacklebolt glanced at him, straightened his uniform and pretended not to notice.

"Okay, I give up." Remus hissed. "What can you tell me about this woman?"

"Hm?" Kingsley asked, inclining his chin.

"Du Lac. What do you know about her?"

Kingsley's face darkened, searching for the proper words. Remus took this as a note to be afraid. "She was threatened with court-martial twice during the Dark Times."

"For what?"

"War Crimes. She was accused of being excessively cruel and intolerant with suspected Death Eaters. Four suspects in her custody died before official interrogations, or charges could be brought up against them."  
"She killed them?"

"They committed suicide." Kingsley was flexing his wand hand, nervously. "We use to call her the Kindly One. She had a way of peeling back defenses, and offensives and destroying someone." He paused, before adding. "Without ever puling her wand. She's never taken a life with her own hands."

Remus was watching Kingsley with a sort of rapt attention. "She…drove them to suicide? How did she remain on guard for so long…how…"

"She got results, Remus. At a time when no one could- not even the Order of the Phoenix. Those were terrible times. Terrible times birth terrible crimes, and terrible…"

"Terrible people."

Kingsley's eyes flashed as he turned, staring at Remus darkly. "Are you so pure to judge us, Wolf?"

Remus took the rebuke in stride. "I am a dark creature, remember? It's expected of me. You were suppose to be better then that."

"We are." Kingsley began then paused. "Its just…things aren't black and white. No one's prefect."

"You should be."

"Merlin, Remus, does everything have to be black and white with you? You above all else, can't you understand…"

"No. I can't." Remus said sharply. "I tried, Kingsley. I really did. I tried to figure out how to understand gray, for Severus' sake. I tried to believe that…there was more, but after…now that Albus' gone, I don't. I can't. There's no way to explain what Severus did. There's no gray. There shouldn't be." Remus turned away, and licked his lips before pushing open the doors to the old spy's office, "There isn't way to explain it away…"

Du Lac rose when Remus entered the room and smiled. She looked at Kingsley who stood at the doorstep and inclined her head, nodding slightly. "Thank you for bringing him, Kingsley. You may go."

"I'd like to sit in, if that's okay."

Du Lac walked towards the door, and kept her voice honeyed. "I'm afraid that would be impossible." She said simply, before shutting the door. She turned and fixed Remus in her gaze.

Remus had seen that sort of coarse, impassive look once before. In the eyes of his sire, Fenrir Grayback. He found himself instantly wishing Kingsley was beside him.

"Now," Du Lac cooed, walking from the door to Severus' old desk, folding her hands in front of her. "Let's begin."


	3. The Auror and the Wolf

**Author's Note: I'm not dead, and neither is this story. Let's hope. R/R**

******Chapter Three: The Wolf and the Auror**

A moment before we continue to observe the one called Remus Lupin. He is pale, from lack of care and a sort of enforced penitence. Thin, and shaking from chill or fear, Remus carries himself easily. He feigns comfort and affability. He pretends to be relaxed, sleepy, composed. Remus looks unassuming. A thin nose, thin lips, and heavy-lidded eyes that peel back to reveal cool blue eyes that swim. He swims in his clothing, and hides behind his robes. He's had years to prefect this cool guise. But believe when it is said, Remus Lupin is a villain.

Of the most savage kind.

And then, of course, he is also a werewolf.

Du Lac takes him in as she sits behind Severus old desk and reclines. She owns the room, a strange thing considering she is so small. Remus thinks for a moment, how easily he could over power her. It's not his thought entirely, he knows, but still it comes to his mind unbidden and Remus flinched. The thought comes from the Wolf within him. It thinks only of dominance and self-preservation. Remus is thankful for it but fears that moment when thought becomes action.

Because then, the distrust he sees or thinks he sees in Du Lac's eyes would be justified.

"Why don't we begin with something simple." Du Lac purred, opening a small file folder she had produced from the drawer.

"You're using his desk." Remus interrupted. He was staring at the desk, marveling at the orderliness of it. He had not been in this room since before the murder, and staring at it now he could only think of the rage Severus would feel at seeing his shrine so desecrated.

Du Lac smiled. "Yes, I suppose that is simple enough. I am using his rooms, I wanted to better understand him."

"Sleeping in his bed too, I wonder?" Remus tilted his head, watching Du Lac mimicking Grayback as best he could. "How strange."

"And what a strange bedfellow he did make." The Kindly One was undeterred, practically cooing as she demurred her words. She looked down, rifling through the files and folders. "I confess myself surprised, Professor Lupin," a delicate, loaded pause. "May I call you Professor? I admit I found myself surprised so see how easily he entered into the circle of Albus' intimates. Into your trust, from what I gathered you two were hardly friends in school, correct?"

"No."

"No?"

"We were not friends."

"And yet at the drop of a word from one man, you take him on as a brother."

"Not just any man's. Albus Dumbledore's."

"Forgive me. For Caesar's word, you would take a viper into the fold." Du Lac took another loaded pause as she skimmed the files. "Again and again I see it. Here is Moody's statement, 'No, as a rule I did not trust the Death Eater- but Albus trusted him.' Arthur Weasley said he was a strange, cruel man but Albus loved him. And here, former Minister of Magic Fudge says he was almost proud to display a Dark Mark to him. He said Snape never appeared to be more then a follower of the Dark Lord, chained only by the short leash of the Headmaster."

"Yes, Fudge would say that. Hindsight is prefect, is it now."

"The point," She demurred idly, and rose her head softly. "Is all rested on the shoulders of a man. A great man, make no doubt but a man no less. One as culpable and weak as you or I.'

"You're wrong."

"Concerning?"

"Albus was a better man then you or I."

She smiled again and closed the folder. "Such loyalty. Is this the wolf or the man who speaks to me now?"

Remus sat up, watching her. "I am one person."

"It must be terrible," She continued softly. "To lose yourself in the moonlight, to feel the poison that lives within you swell and rage inside until it is obeyed."

"You've never been a teenage boy. I know all about controlling swelling and raging inside of me. Its called surviving puberty."

Du Lac almost smiled. Almost. "Did you trust him?"

"With my life."

"I was talking about Severus."

"So was I."

Du Lac tilted her head once more, looking somewhere between confusion and annoyance. Remus felt his stomach tighten just slightly. He looked at her for the first time then, not as a human would have but the way Grayback had taught him too. Everyone is an animal. Everyone had a dark side, and everyone fought against a beast.

Some were just better at hiding it.

Du Lac had feral eyes. Empty eyes that belied no wisdom behind them, no sparkle of compassion and humanity. They were calm and dark. Focused. Cruel. He'd seen those eyes once before and like he did then, Remus shivered against his better judgment. She had Severus' eyes.

"What do you fear, Remus Lupin?"

"Full moons and walking under ladders."

"Truly? Shall I tell you what I believe?" She reclined against the chair and coiled one arm around the back of the back. Remus noticed for the first time just how small she was. The desk swallowed her whole. "I believe you fear Severus. Not for some pitiful reason like you don't want to die, or you fear this Half-Blood Prince guise. I believe you fear that you are the same."

Remus jerked up, but remained silent. Keep silent beast, Remus whispered to himself. Keep quiet. Albus would have wanted it that way…

"James Potter, and Lily, Sirius…they all trusted you regardless all evidence that pointed to the contrary…and they died for that belief didn't they? It was your word that removed Sirius, as the Potter's Secret Keeper wasn't it? Or was it that you were not entirely…proven to become it all? Was it your word that moved Sirius hand that day at the Ministry? Was it just that you weren't there. You never have been, have you Mr. Lupin? When your friends needed you, you've never been there…and I wonder if…no. I believe it. You want to die for this cause, don't you? Because if you do, you would have proven yourself worthy isn't it?" Du Lac looked down at her papers, and sounded sad. "Forgive me if I insult you, Mr. Lupin. I am pained to hear these terrible words, and I can only imagine the pain you must carry with you at all times…but how you must worry, sir. How you must wonder…"

She was baiting a wolf and it took every instinct and shred of humanity in Remus not to bound over the table and show her the folly of such an action. But he couldn't. He had to trust.

"How you must fear that if, given a situation like the one Severus faced, what would you do? How would Remus Lupin react if given the chance to do what was right, and what was easy… when you have run from every chance this has presented to you in the past, how will you react now, when given the choice."

Remus licked his lips dryly and remained silent for several seconds. It was not because of anger, or even indignity that silenced him. It was that Remus didn't think his voice would hold. When he spoke finally, he could not look up.

"There's something you don't understand…Albus never told Severus what he had to do. He just knew. He trusted Dumbledore enough to know that whatever he had to do, whatever came to pass…he knew Albus could be bigger then that. Somehow, Severus would be bigger then that, just by believing in Albus. You got to understand, Albus had that kind of power. He could make you believe, when all hope was gone. Especially when hope was gone. When your own strength had failed, and you were afraid and weak…somehow he made you believe. Severus believed. And you want to hear something funny?" Remus laughed. "I do too. You're right, I am afraid I won't be…strong enough in the end. But it doesn't matter. Albus believed I could and…you know what." Remus sat looked up then, he wanted Du Lac to see the tears, see the pain and know. "And I believe in Albus."

"Do you believe Albus was right about Severus?"

"I believe…Albus. Everything else, I can't say…just…" Remus closed his eyes. "I believed him."

"What if he was wrong?"

Remus laughed. "Then being strong enough in the end is the least of my worries, Miss Du Lac."

* * *

Diagon Alley bustled, quite unaffected that the Half-Blood Prince snaked through her streets and in and out of her shops, unmoved by the bustling. Life continued to move or less at the same rate at always. Here Dark Lords and their Princes were the stuff of lunchroom chats and idle gossip that was exchanged with money over counters, under tables and into the daily vibe. People clustered around each other, bickering over prices and food. In other words, they lived. 

If you could call this living.

Severus Snape sidestepped an Auror, and despite his better judgment and personality he looked over, and nodded his head in apology. The Wizard didn't so much as blink at him before pushing away. Snape chewed on his lip and cursed. Security these days. No wonder the Headmaster had been killed…

"Excuse me…?"

Severus turned, more on instinct then thought, and hated himself a moment later. The young man standing there had the look of the eternally young, and naive. He was juggling several books in his arms and wore robes of various shades and wear. The boy had an intelligent look in his face, marred only by the slightest frown at the corner of his lips as if he was staring hard into a fog, trying to discern what stood in front of him. Snape glanced at his hands for a moment, to assure himself that the boy could not reach for his wand faster then Severus could pull his.

"Can I help you?" Severus prodded softly.

The boy smiled slowly, and looked back at the Auror before meeting his eyes. "Professor Snape…it is you. Didn't think I'd see you after all the fuss and rumor…" He glanced back at the Auror again. "Why don't we go, shouldn't make this more difficult…should we?"


End file.
